


A Smile Worth the Injury

by IronyPistol



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: EnnoKuroo - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Minor Injuries, This entire thing is Kuroo failing to flirt. Repeatedly.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronyPistol/pseuds/IronyPistol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo could get lost on some roads, reading internet articles, and in this beautiful gardener’s eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Smile Worth the Injury

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 2000 but in the end it was nearly 6000 words of Kuroo gushing over Ennoshita to the point of my own annoyance. Sorry.

 

Snapbacks. Callbacks. Worried about getting hit by cadillacs. These three things filled Kuroo’s days of the late. Every morning Kuroo would shove his messy hair into a red cap, grab his keys, and swing his legs over his rickety bike before heading off to the aged theater a short distance away. He took the road most taken, the one worn down by time and constant usage. Two kilometers down the road came a sharp corner around a cliff. Deep enough into a forest as it was, this particular section of the road was a speeders heaven so of course some of them loved the thrill of taking this corner at high speed. Blind. Kuroo’s greatest desire was to not get rammed into by some careless driver, or at least for the police to set up a speedtrap. He couldn’t afford the injury, not when being known as the tardy stage hand this early on would lower his reputation.

Kuroo Tetsurou wouldn’t allow himself to imagine a scenario where he was fired from the most tolerable job he’s kept yet, especially not on opening night when tension was high among cast and crew alike. Today, he would depart from his apartment outside the city just an hour earlier and reroute himself to a road through a few residential areas. Sure, the commute would be a few minutes longer, but at least the ride would be less extraneous on the flatter terrain, and hopefully have more competent drivers.

_ I need a small change in scenery _ , Kuroo mentally told himself as he fiddled with the braking mechanism on his bicycle. It had been too loose of the late and required him to squeeze full force on the handles, posing a very real risk. Hopefully he’d visit a bike mechanic soon, but Kuroo would have to settle for tightening the screws for now. He sighed and rose from his kneeling position he had maintained for the past half hour. Kuroo fetched his bursting satchel that had been laying on the ground beside him. Kuroo knitted his eyebrows before mounting the bike. Nothing should be an issue on the flat roads, shouldn’t it?

_ Nah, I’ll be fine. _

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes into the easy ride, Kuroo encountered the second neighborhood of his commute. The endless uniform houses had blurred together in streams of light gray and beige. The change was almost imperceptible except for a bright blue sign to Kuroo’s right with the neighborhood name plastered upon it. If he had memorized this route correctly, he should be about halfway to the theatre and at least twenty minutes early.

Slowly, Kuroo worked up a sweat against his dark tank top, but not quite as much as other days in the varyingly hilly pass. The ride was the equivalent of a lively stroll, not more than a warm up exercise. A swift breeze in the sickening summer sweetness ran against Kuroo’s cheeks and exposed forehead. Thankfully, Kuroo always had just enough foresight to wear a hat when biking, providing comfortable shade and pushing his unruly hair out of his face.

Electronic beats pounded in Kuroo’s earbuds in an attempt to dilute the jaunty numbers of the musical he was heading to. Unfortunately, he couldn’t continue listening once he went to the theater as he had to listen to the verbal cues not to mention the stage manager wouldn’t be too pleased to see headphone wires dangling behind him. The thought crossed his mind that Kuroo’s deafness to his surroundings might not be the safest way, but he doubted there would be many obstacles he’d have to avoid in this area as long as his visuals were alert. Eyes ahead to flat pavement. Gray. Dull. This change in scenery had a surprising lack of scenery. A lazy Sunday presented nothing of interest so could one blame a guy for listening to his tunes on his way to work? The street was absent of children trotting their way off to school and parents scrambling to catch their trains to towering companies in the city. 

At first it didn’t seem there would be much to look out for. The quiet beyond his music partially reminded Kuroo of his younger days with Kenma. There weren’t others their age to toss balls to or laugh at jokes with, and Kenma was a creature of the indoor sort. Needless to say, they didn’t go explore outside frequently aside from the local park they occasionally visited to use the volleyball nets. When they had, this nasty hag usually chastised the duo for playing too close to her ever dying garden. It wasn’t as if she were growing any fragile plants they could damage, nor were they even intruding on her property in the slightest. No, she had been worried over some dusty cabbages even she wasn’t too fond of, by the dry state of them. The garden wasn’t even comparable to the one just coming into Kuroo’s view at the moment.

His pace sped as a vibrant emerald patch on the horizon came into his vision. Kuroo squinted to try to assess the sparkle in the distance. As he drew closer, he managed to make out the glimmer of water spraying from a winding hose accompanied by the outline of thick bushes of colourful flowers. The person tending to the garden was obstructed from Kuroo’s view, but he assumed the person must have cared a great deal in comparison to the rest of the neighbors if their yards were anything to go by. As Kuroo approached, his peddling slowed before allowing himself to coast. The flowers revealed themselves as violet hydrangeas, petals dancing with dew and droplets. It might seem cliche as hell, but even the lawn seemed more . . . eye catching, than the others surrounding it.

Kuroo had a gratuitous appreciation for the art of gardening , sure, but there was something slightly more alluring in the garden.  _ Someone _ , to be accurate. Kuroo was now close enough to fix his gaze upon a young man with swept brown hair, standing with hose in hand. Even in clunky gardeners’ garb of an apron and large, grubby gloves, this man was exquisitely attractive. Possibly, it was his smile that stood out so clearly to Kuroo. His lips pulled back into a sickeningly sweet grin, dearly gazing at his creations with care. Some said eyes were the most expressive parts of the face, but Kuroo would be damned if there wasn’t an exception for that man. Kuroo’s heart pumped blood to his face just a beat faster at the thought of slowing down to hold a conversation. Alas, the house was soon to be disappearing behind him and Kuroo had a career.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo whispered to himself, his neck craned around. But at this point, he wasn’t certain if he was speaking about the garden or the gorgeous gardener smiling fondly at his plants. He knew he shouldn’t creep on this poor man minding his own business, but something about him made Kuroo-  _ Oh god, is he looking my way? _

In fact, the gardener had set down his hose and threw a glance over his shoulder for a reason that must be the work of a trickster hellbent on ruining Kuroo. He loved to act suave around those he was familiar with, but handsome strangers were a whole other story. He didn’t even bother checking if the man had seen him staring before he  _ slammed _ his foot into the pedals with a sudden desperation to escape. He was beginning to sweat even more.  _ I swear to god I- _

_ Oh, shit.  _ Kuroo’s eyes whipped to the sidewalk laid before him and suddenly a street light was a seconds away. Immediately, Kuroo’s hands gripped the brakes. All too late did he remember his braking predicament.

_ Crash! _

Scraping metal and limbs against pavement were all that filled Kuroo’s head now as he was thrown violently from his bike. Kuroo’s new sight was that of the slowly revolving spokes of his front wheel with the backdrop of an August sky. His heart beat too quickly for a whole new reason.

Nothing hurt.

At least nothing he could feel.

But what about his damn bike?

_ I am going to be so late. _

Achingly sluggish, Kuroo pushed off his bicycle and propped himself up on his elbows. A red snapback to his right and his newly cracked phone to his left. Kuroo sighed. Assessing the damage, he determined he would might be able to make it excusably late if he could ask someone about borrowing a wrench or screw driver. Kuroo was grateful there was nothing done to the frame aside a minor dent to the neck. Soon, Kuroo’s hand gripped his cardinal cap just about to reunite his head with the shade it provides.

“Are you okay?!” A soft-spoken voice cut through the daze. Oh great. Not only had Kuroo nearly wrecked himself, he also made a fool of himself in front of a handsome guy. What was he? A lovelorn high school boy? There were other issues to be concerned over. Kuroo turned his head to see the gardener had abandoned his flowers and was promptly taking strides toward an injured Kuroo.

“People usually look ahead while they’re biking.” The man laughed nervously, now kneeling over Kuroo to his left. Although he chuckled, there was a clear sense of concern knitted on his face.

“Well- well you- I mean your  _ garden  _ is very beautiful.” Kuroo struggled to recover his composure after his mistake. Surely his face was as crimson as his old high school jersey. At least his bangs were covering up some of it, but hiding behind hair wasn’t an effective barrier. “It was dis-distracting.” 

Very clearly now, Kuroo could observe the man’s droopy, brown eyes and brilliant smile. Something radiated from the way he pulled back the corner of his mouth and revealed a toothy grin. Something gorgeous. Something almost heartwarming. Something that made his predicament almost worth it.

“If you have enough of your head to flirt, I’m assuming you don’t have a concussion.” Alarms blared in Kuroo’s mind.  _ Flirt _ . Was he  _ that _ obvious? Before Kuroo could protest the claim, the man brushed aside Kuroo’s hair from his face to evaluate the source of Kuroo’s headache. He clicked his tongue. “Oh, I should get bandages for that.” Kuroo touched his forehead, and upon pulling his hand away, noticed a small amount of blood on his finger tips. “Don’t touch it!” the man hissed. “Just. Just wait a second. Let me get my first aid kit.”

The man hurried off, disappearing behind the wooden door of his house. Kuroo sighed. Why couldn’t he go a day without needing someone to look after him? Before Kuroo could answer his own trivial question, the sudden slamming of wood against a wall startled him out of his thoughts. A mop of brunet hair rushed towards him once more. Not only was he handsome, but he was prompt, too.

_ Get your head out of the gutter, Tetsurou.  _

Quickly, the gardener sat himself beside Kuroo again. In the man’s hands were bandages and some sort of bottled antibiotic spray. Behind him was a small case containing an array of gels and band-aids. Slowly, the man leaned toward Kuroo’s body, catching him off guard. And then he remembered exactly why he was sitting near the wreckage of his poor bike. He tried his best to release the tension he gathered in his shoulders. The man used his left hand to retrieve a clean towel and began dabbing it on Kuroo’s forehead to remove the blood. Unfortunately, Kuroo could feel more blood rushing up to his face.

“Please stay still, for one moment . . . erm.”

“Kuroo,” he supplied.

“Please stay still Kuroo-san. I need to apply the spray so the cuts don’t get infected. Can you do that for me?” The tone of his voice sounded almost condescending as if he didn’t believe in his ability to be static. Instead of providing a huff or witty response, Kuroo allowed silence halt the teasing for him. He only made a sound when he winced at the spray. This caused a chuckle to rise from the man tending to his injuries. After the bandages were gently placed, the man stood proud of his handiwork. He offered a hand to Kuroo who had still laid upon the ground.

Without hesitation, Kuroo took the hand and lifted himself from the street. Bending over, he picked up his bike to lean it against the pole. He met eyes with the man in front of him and uttered a few words of gratitude. “Thank you . . .” except this time the man did not offer his own name in return.

The pair stared at the pole that Kuroo had collided with a few moments prior. Eventually, their eyes trailed to the bike itself. Kuroo rubbed the nape of his neck. He knew exactly what he was  _ required _ to do to fix it but the only issue was  _ by what means _ ? He hadn’t brought any tools with him. Why would he? Foresight was not one of Kuroo’s strong points. Luckily, before he even inhaled to speak, the gardener piped up. “Do you need any help with your bicycle? Mechanics isn't my forte but the way you're eyeing it gives me a clue it’s not in a rideable condition.”

“No, it just needs some bolts tightened up. I wouldn’t go out on any roads without making sure the wobble is reduced.”

“Do you need anything to do that or . . .”

“Got a twelve millimeter wrench?”

“I can check.” The man began to take another few steps towards the house but threw a glance over his shoulder and halted when he noticed Kuroo wasn't following him; his hand signalled him to move forward. “You might need something else and I’d prefer if I could take only as many trips as necessary,” he called out. Kuroo’s senses froze for a brief moment before the signals from his brain worked their way to his legs.

Kuroo had a certain anxiety in entering new houses. They were home turf. The nest. The heart of a person’s daily map. And like a heart, each home had a varying set of basic rules on how to treat it respectfully. The trouble was figuring out all of those rules in a tactful way. The simplest method was to closely follow whoever had invited you inside and try to be as noninvasive as possible. But it was difficult when every step felt equivalent to reading a page of someone's diary. Awkwardly, Kuroo shuffled from one hall to the next tailing the man during their trek through his halls. Eventually, they found themselves in a storage room tucked into the back of the house. Inside were boxes of all sizes marked with lettering neat a and legible.  _ GARDENING. BOOKS. BUSINESS. REGRETTABLE DECISIONS.  _ Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

“My housemate does some design work and struggles to throw out old concept sketches so he just packs them into a box,” the man said. Kuroo shrugged and the man began scanning among the stacks. Settling upon one labeled  _ SINK  _ shoved behind a wall of storage, he climbed up and grasped for the container and failed. Awkwardness grew as Kuroo watched him struggle as he stretched up for the box barely out of his reach. It grew too uncomfortable for Kuroo to just stare, so he used his extra centimeters over the man in height to grab the cardboard package. He handed it to him with a soft smile on his face he barely noticed himself. “Thanks.”

They dropped to their knees and peeled off the lid to unveil a set of tubing and plumbing supplies. Kuroo hovered over his shoulder as the man dug around the shallow box for a brief period to then find a wrench hidden within the mess. He handed it to Kuroo. “Look like the right size?”

Kuroo flipped the wrench to look at the engraving on the handle.  _ 12 mm _ . How convenient. When Kuroo looked back up, he was met with a semi-confused expression that left him a little nervous.  The slight pout of the man’s lip gave him an almost boyish look. What was he pondering? Oh god, he’s probably embarrassed how he needed assistance. “Yeah . . . I guess I should head back to the- the- the outside. To fix the bike.”

“Sure you don’t need anything else, hot shot?”

_ Your number,  _ Kuroo’s brain supplied. He ignored the intrusive thought. “A pump maybe. I doubt anything happened with the tire’s pressure but I’d like to be sure. Can’t be too prepared.”

“Says the guy who had a minor accident with a pole and had no tools and  _ no helmet _ .”

There was no being smooth with this guy, was there? For every comment he had a quip and rhyme. Kuroo had a feeling that a clever defense would only lead to more ridicule. “Like I said, I can’t be too prepared. At all.”

Kuroo quickly walked through the halls and to the curb.

“You seem to be in a bit of a hurry. Where were you rushing off to?” The man was slightly flustered at having to jog after Kuroo’s longer stride.

“I’m working at the musical downtown and if you know anything about stage managers and opening night . . .”

The man laughed. “I’ve had a few run ins with some, yes. Is it the production held the theater by the bank?” Kuroo nodded. “I’m attending it on Wednesday. One of my hobbies is theater review.”

“I hope I’m making a good impression then.”

“Trust me. You’re not.” There it is, the small bullet right through his heart. “But I wouldn’t worry! I try not to let my personal connections affect what I write too much!”

“Well, I’d love to read your review when you publish it.” Kuroo was somewhat hesitant when it came to reviews because with each passing show, he became more engrossed with the work. More personally attached to each set piece he made, every prop he handled, and all the crew members he’d become friends with during the preparation and run. Yet, he figured it couldn’t be too bad.

Kuroo took the wrenches and began to tighten the loose brakes and bolts. He didn’t have much experience with fixing bikes and was completely self taught, leaving him to fiddle with all of the mechanisms for a long period of time. The gardener showed minimal signs of leaving, and Kuroo was concerned he would be uncomfortably monitoring his work in silence. Just as Kuroo was about to attempt a further conversation, the man spoke up once again.

“If you’re really interested, I can give you the address to my review website. I could use the traffic. Just give me a second to get something to write on.”

“O-okay?” With that, the man bounded back to his house, excited at how engaged Kuroo was. Now left alone, Kuroo could finish repairing his bike without the constant worry he’d somehow mess up in front of the gardener.

Just as Kuroo completed checking the tire pressure, the man returned, a small card in hand. “I couldn’t find any paper, just one of my old business cards. Sorry.” He offered up the card and Kuroo plucked it from him. It was reverse side up, smudged ink reading  _ tokyoplaysandpreview.com  _ across it. He didn’t spend too long inspecting it before shoving it into his short’s pocket.

“The card also has my phone number if you have any . . . inquiries.” The gardener resumed his smiling at the last word.

“Thanks, I guess?” Kuroo wasn’t sure where to end this trainwreck of a meeting. During every single one of their interractions, Kuroo attempted to be suave before embarrassing himself further. Yet, he’d managed to get this beautiful gardener’s number . . . kind of. Where he stood? Kuroo wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, was he began to stare at some point. He shook himself from his daze. “I mean, for the tools.” He handed them back.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around at the play! I’ll say hello after the performance if I catch you.”

_ He still wants to see me after that mess?  _ The majority of Kuroo’s internal dialogue following that sentence consisted of disbelief and conflict.  _ I sure as hell wouldn’t be flirting with me. But, he did give me his contact information. Or is he just being nice? Agh!  _ “Same to you,” Kuroo promised nervously.

Kuroo propped up his bicycle and swung his legs around, one foot on a pedal, the other planted firmly on the ground. He stuck around long enough to see the gardener set the tools on the porch and return his focus to the beautiful plants. Surrounded with soft greens and pastel petals, he studied his garden blissfully.

Time to go unless Kuroo wanted to be late and the incite the stage manager to personally murder him. It was best not to enrage a dragon. Feet slamming down, Kuroo took off down the road, leaving the quaint scene behind him. As much as he worried about being tardy, Kuroo doubted he should be. There was a reason he left a twenty minute buffer. Not to mention she needed him for opening night!

As much confidence as Kuroo had that he powered through the most undignified moments of his life, he barely travelled ten meters before crashing once again.  _ Thud! _ Slamming his knee into an unseen fire hydrant, Kuroo lost just enough balance to topple over onto the sidewalk. The pain was numb but, goddamn, pain is pain. His disorientation quickly dissipated as he quietly prayed that the gardener was far enough out of sight to not notice.

“Bwahahah!”

Kuroo was not a lucky man.

Attempting to convince himself that he wasn’t a complete klutz, Kuroo paid no mind to the source of the laughter. As casually as he could, he picked himself from the ground before tripping on his bike. The cackling from behind grew. To his rear was a figure in the distance, doubled over and clutching his chest. Kuroo’s greatest desire was not to get hit by a car, but a close second was getting out of there as fast as possible before getting any more shit.

The man continued to laugh heartily before calling out “See you around, moron!”

Sure, he gave himself an internal heart attack with this disaster, but Kuroo had more important things to trouble himself with in the future.

 

* * *

 

_ Downtown Production: Worth Your Time? If You Have Money to Waste. _

Kuroo could not  _ believe _ the words plastering the top of his web browser. After over a week’s worth of performances, Kuroo could finally exhale in relief. The stage manager was finally off his back, he could resume a more regular sleep schedule, and he no longer had to worry about actors’ mental breakdowns until the next run of this particular show. He only had a moment’s rest before his mind wandered to the events prior to opening night. Out of a sort of morbid curiosity, Kuroo recalled a certain web address, cracked open his laptop, and began to read.

For all the headlines Kuroo would imagine he would be faced with, a passive aggressive bashing on his show was not one of them. Possibly Kuroo was a masochist because he immersed himself in the review article before him. The review was standard, giving a short summary of the musical and some concise thoughts on the technical aspects of the show. Unfortunately, as Kuroo scrolled to the bottom, it became increasingly editorial.  _ Inappropriate use of lighting effects. Ungodly sopranos. Sub par acting. _ Those were just a few phrases that ensnared Kuroo’s attention. This piece of-  _ Adequate prop handling. _

“Are you kidding me?” Kuroo groaned. Not only had this irritatingly attractive reviewer distinguished his show  _ barely a 5 out of 10,  _ but he was trying to acknowledge Kuroo in the most infuriating way. Buried deep in an disagreeable opinion. The nerve of this man! He didn’t even  _ see _ him at any of the performances. Did he even watch them? A thought sprung forth straight to the tips of his fingers.  _ Click. Tap. Clack. _ Kuroo searched the page with an obsessiveness for the name of the author, smirking upon the moment of discovering it.

Ennoshita Chikara.

Leaning back with pride, Kuroo mentally took note of the name. Not only did Kuroo know what revenge to give, but he knew exactly what name and address to deliver it to.   


 

* * *

Locking his bicycle to the rack, Kuroo huffed. Outside of a dreary, little flower shop hidden between other generic business, he had the first realization that possibly his plan was . . . unconventional. But, if he had already made the effort of finding the only vendor of live plants in the area, why not carry through? He looked over his bike briefly to procrastinate entering as he realized the numerous answers of why not. It took Kuroo a moment to tear is attention away from the bike and towards the storefront.

The worn sign above the door read  _ Carnation Creations _ in a painted scrawl. Wasn’t there some sort of quality regulation for business owners? Kuroo brushed off the thought and opened the door. Entering the store, the door made a dull buzz to indicate his arrival causing Kuroo to jolt a fraction. Kuroo took a sweeping glance at the store as chucking arose from somewhere around him. Someone was laughing at him,  _ again _ . The clerk at the counter, he found, was the source. Jeez, he really couldn’t go anywhere nowadays without embarrassing himself.

The interior was just as worn as the outside which would make most cringe if not for the foliage covering the walls and shelves. The colour of the walls might as well be green than whatever putrid yellow they actually were. Stacked around him were buds and blossoms in colourful varieties. This was just an average flower shop, he knew, so Kuroo really shouldn’t be so surprise they have  _ plants.  _ But nature could really take something simple and make it seem like an amazing feat. At a glance, the greenery looked as well taken care of as those found within the garden from a week prior. It was for the best, he guessed.  _ Ennoshita, _ the name still lingered oddly around in Kuroo’s mind,  _ seems like the kind of guy to give me shit about not taking care of plants or something. _

After wandering about the aisles for a few minutes, Kuroo eventually found himself at the counter being stared down by the clerk, green eyes half lidded and a smirk on his face. Something about him really pissed Kuroo off.

With a hand on his hip, Kuroo finally muttered out an even “Yeah, excuse me-”

“Can I help you,  _ sir _ ?” Cutting him off? What a prick! Kuroo wasn’t sure what provoked his behaviour, but sure as hell he wasn’t too happy about it. The man gave off an unsettling vibe with his disturbingly calm voice, yet Kuroo’s gut said internally, the clerk felt otherwise. Now Kuroo especially wished he didn’t have his daggers for eyes staring him down when he tripped up earlier as if he knew every action he took could be used against him.

“Well,  _ kid _ if you’re offering, I need to have an arrangement for someone that conveys a certain . . . meaning.”

For a brief moment, the man’s expression grew brighter with curiosity, eyes widening and smirk growing. “Of what sort are you looking for?”

Kuroo huffed. His plan was a little . . . mixed in terms of the message it was supposed to deliver and he was worried if he unveiled it this rude cashier would laugh him out of the store. “Now, this is going to sound kind of weird but-”

“Trust me.” He leaned against the counter closer to Kuroo. “I’ve seen and done weirder things than you could imagine.” Although, he was still irritated over the repeated interruption, Kuroo was a bit comforted by this response.

“Well, what is the most passive aggressive way to say I hate you in flowers?”

“You’re surprisingly not the first one to ask me that.” The response was not expected, but not unwelcome. Kuroo was assured he was more normal than he forced himself to believe for this plan, but also wondered what kind of world he was living in where discreetly giving people hate gifts happened this often. “So, you want to give a  _ fuckyouquet. _ Off the top of my head, I would recommend geraniums, foxglove and meadowsweet. They mean stupidity, insincerity, and uselessness respectively.” He crossed his arms and thought in silence for a moment. “I believe orange lilies indicate simply hatred. Oh, and yellow carnations are the ever classic ‘you have disappointed me.’ If you were to give someone this, they’d find it quite striking, but only you would know how filled with loathing it is. And I guess so would they if they looked up the meanings. It is a quite an odd assortment so I wouldn’t blame them for their curiosity.”

Kuroo squinted. Did people really memorize flower meanings? What kind of useless knowledge was that? But, he couldn’t be too harsh on the clerk since he literally just told him what he asked for. “Perfect. Could I perhaps purchase this  _ fuckyouquet? _ ” 

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I told you no.” The clerk stepped around the small counter and towards a pin board near a line of small trees. In large characters, the pinboard read  _ AVAILABLE _ and below was a packet of papers attached to it. He riffled through the papers and examined each line very carefully. Without looking up, the man began to speak again. “Why do you need this?” His tone indicated genuine interest over exasperation although there were subtle undertones of the latter. “Dreadful mother-in-law?”

“Ha, I’d have to be married to have one of those and I’m a bit young for that. Although, maybe you couldn’t tell because of my mature appearance.” There was only silence in response. “Ah, well, there was this handsome guy I . . . uhm, stumbled upon, and while he seemed pretty nice he left a shitty review on this production I was working on and-”

_ Buzz.  _ The door had opened again and startled Kuroo out of his words. He instinctively turned his head towards whomever was entering. A stranger, he expected. A familiar stranger? Not so much.

Ennoshita Chikara strode through the door and scanned the store before locking eyes on something just over Kuroo’s shoulder. Oh god, why did he have to be here? Why now? He began walking in Kuroo’s direction. Let me just finish my plan in peace. Let me just- “Hey, Akaashi!” Ennoshita completely skipped over Kuroo, not once making eye contact as he walked to the sales clerk and tapped him on the shoulder.

Kuroo was floored. Not even the slightest acknowledgement? Possibly he didn’t remember the guy who fell on his ass in front of his house. He imagined what would happened if he showed up at Ennoshita’s doorstep with a gratuitous amount of flowers. Jeez, that would be even more embarrassing than the fall from before. He’d prefer if he remembered his blunders just for the sake of being remembered.

“Has work been interesting, Keiji?”

“Not terribly,” the clerk, Akaashi Keiji Kuroo gathered, answered while continuing his work. Weekdays are always slow like this.” Kuroo suddenly felt as if he were trapped in a fish tank, looking through blurry glass and hearing muffled words. He wasn’t a part of this alien conversation and was ignored. He knew not everything was about him, but he was a customer put in the awkward situation of listening to a personal exchange. “So, did you go out grocery shopping today, or are you taking a walk?”

“Oh, I’m actually looking for some plants and  _ then _ going to the market. I wouldn’t want any of the food to spoil, y’know?” Their discussion continued for a few more minutes, enough for Kuroo to grow wildly uncomfortable and begin tapping his foot. Kuroo stared at the floor until he felt it was acceptable to look up again, lest he feel as if he were intruding. “Oh, and this guy was the guy who ran into the pole I was telling you about.” Kuroo’s attention snapped back to the two men in front of him. Ennoshita was smiling with a thumb pointed right at him.

Akaashi stifled a chuckle. “Oh yes, that was hilarious.”

Kuroo groaned. He was sure Ennoshita was sent to earth to ruin him. “Come on!” He stepped towards him as he spoke to emphasize his vexation. “Are you just telling everyone about my failures?”

Finally, Ennoshita looked at Kuroo. “I mean, he’s my housemate, Kuroo, so why wouldn’t I tell him about the guy who crashed his bike in front of our house _twice_?” Then, he disappeared behind the walls of plants and leaves.

While Kuroo felt thankful Ennoshita remembered his name, he was offended. Ennoshita didn’t owe him anything, but he had the smallest shred of hope, he’d keep his dignity in tact. Still, it wasn’t as if Ennoshita would be  _ aware _ he would be speaking with someone Kuroo would talk to in his near future.

“Ennoshita-san?” Akaashi called out. “I’m pretty sure the flowers he’s buying are for y-”

“They’re completely unrelated to anything,” Kuroo bluntly interrupted. God, this got worse by the minute. Maybe he should have just asked Ennoshita out like a regular human rather than trying to be clever and smooth. He already knew he wasn’t, so what was the point in humiliating himself further?

Akaashi looked up from the pinboard and to the customer at his side. “Anyway, it doesn’t appear that we have all of the flowers I described, nor are they on order. I can make the arrangement without the missing flowers. It would be lacking some colour but you would have something.”

“You know? Nevermind.”

“Anyway, as a customer who actually intends on buying something, I’d appreciate if I could talk to the salesperson, Kuroo.” Ennoshita emerged from the aisles with a basket of plants perked up in their tiny pots. Round and red flowers bounced along with each step to the counter.

“What are you buying those for?” Akaashi piped up in inquiry. He moved back to his station at the cash register to ring up the sale.“I thought we didn’t have anymore room for new plants in the garden.” 

WIthout even moving his eyes from their fixed position on the flowers, Ennoshita grinned his radiant smile. “I have to teach this dummy how to grow something. He sure likes to look at our garden.” It took Kuroo one moment to grasp the dummy in question was himself.

In that moment, even Kuroo could feel his own smile forming.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the fic seems flat and generic. I haven’t really written anything for fun in months, much less anything I’ve finished (over a year), so I thank you for reading and hope you’ll stick around for more of my EnnoKuroo fics!
> 
> Partially based off of this prompt: http://bit.ly/2aT5Kpd


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